


jongup

by daegusoftboys



Series: halloween drabbles [4]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: F/M, Haunted Mansion AU, ghost au, kids and portraits being creepy, malicious spirits, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 06:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21441745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daegusoftboys/pseuds/daegusoftboys
Summary: prompt request: moon jongup + haunted house + “stop touching me!” “I didn’t.”
Relationships: Moon Jongup/Original Female Character(s)
Series: halloween drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545787
Kudos: 1





	jongup

“Do we turn left or right?”

You cower behind Jongup as he contemplates what corridor to take. “The one that gets us out of here faster,” you urge him on, voice barely audible.

He cranes his head to look at you. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

He laughs, his shoulders shaking as he tries to mute the sound. For your sake. “Trust me,” he says, reaching for your hand behind him. “We’re alone.” He starts walking towards the right, pulling you with him. “I thought this would be more thrilling though. I should never ask Himchan for Halloween date tips again.”

“Let’s just never go on Halloween dates again, period,” you suggest as you follow him through the dark, barely lit by Jongup’s phone. The corridor is filled with old portraits, pictures of past owners. The Park Mansion used to be passed down through generations of the same family. It was notorious in your village for being haunted. People spoke of hearing wailing women and playing children at night.

The legend goes that back in the ’50s, children kept disappearing from their homes. Lured by the mystery of the haunted mansion, they’d dare each other to enter and stay the night, or at least enough hours that would give them the right to boast about it the next day. Until one day, a fifteen-year-old boy never came out. Then a sixteen-year-old, and another girl a few days later.

The mansion went on lockdown. Search parties were sent out but nobody was found. They bolted the doors and bricked up the windows, making sure no one would ever get inside again.

Until twenty years later, kids got more innovative and found secret passageways underground, leading them straight into the mansion’s wine cellar. The wine was now long gone as teenagers used to sneak in to raid the collection and get drunk in the woods surrounding the property. But it caused a resurrection of bets amongst the village’s children.

It was a girl called Rose Halloway that brought the portrait story to life. Word spread that she had been inside the mansion, walking through these exact corridors, and had seen more than just portraits of the Park family. At the end of the corridor had been multiple smaller paintings, neatly hung up next to each other to fill the empty space. In those frames had been the depictions of the missing children. Each of them looking serene, skin pale and eyes lifeless as if they had been posed for a snapshot post-mortem.

A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the story and suddenly you want to punch Jongup for convincing you to come here. Jongup inches closer to one of the portraits, a well adorned golden frame that holds the painting of a highly prestigious Park Lady. You can tell by her clothes and jewellery that she used to be pretty important back in the day. The dim light of Jongup’s phone lights up her facial features as he brings it closer to the canvas. The paint is slightly worn and faded from years of exposure but you still shy away. You swear you feel her eyes boring into yours, a silent warning- or threat, you can’t decide.

Jongup nudges your shoulder gently, making you jump. “Honestly, stop touching me! You’re only making this worse.”

“I didn’t,” he replies, voice laced with surprise at your words. He lowers his phone to show you his other hand is now holding a candlestick he picked up a minute ago. Jongup shrugs before you can comment. “In case we do run into someone,” he explains.

“Then who-,” you swallow, not allowing yourself to consider the alternatives.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, determined this time, facing away from the portrait and stalking through the corridor. You don’t stop to see if Jongup is following in your footsteps until you reach the staircase.

He easily catches up to you, candlestick still in hand. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out his face, his brows knitted into a worried frown. “You really hate this, don’t you?” he asks, sounding defeated.

You bite the inside of your mouth, trying to find an appropriate answer. Instead, you reach for his hand again, squeezing softly. “How about we stick to a horror movie marathon next year?” you whisper, planting a quick kiss on his lips in reassurance.

He nods, his mouth hesitantly curling into a smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

A hand moves out of nowhere, gripping Jongup’s shoulder firmly. His eyes widen as he looks up at you, your eyes easily locking even in the pitch dark. Behind him a form takes shape, a woman at least a head taller than you, her facial features contorted and flickering, like a television screen undergoing static. Her grip tightens, making Jongup flinch in pain. Her voice sounds hollow, merely an echo as she speaks,

“You’re not going anywhere.”

She moves before you can and suddenly Jongup is pulled into darkness, out of sight.


End file.
